


Beg For It

by uncreativerabbit



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub, Roleplay, Smut, after the bus scene, post 3x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreativerabbit/pseuds/uncreativerabbit
Summary: My late contribution to the Post 3x03 smut pile. An imagining of a kitchen scene in 3x03, Villanelle is waiting for Eve in her apartment when she gets home after their encounter on the bus."You have a habit of sleeping with other men when you think of me."
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 15
Kudos: 294





	Beg For It

Eve knew exactly who it was when she could see the shine of a light through her apartment door. She was handy with a lock pick, probably had a knife and an intoxicating scent and most definitely had a bone to pick about their encounter earlier today on a London bus. Eve hesitated to open the door, considered spinning on her heel back to the Bitter Pill offices for a strip wash in the sink and a nap on the sofa instead of owning up to her actions. Her head pounded, however and she needed to get this hoodie off because it reminded her too much of the husband who had left her and the fact she had kissed the woman he despised in it.

She reached into her bag to slip a small knife into her fingers - she was never without one now - slotted the key in the lock, turned it, heard it click and pushed open the door. There was a ruffle inside as she presumed Villanelle was preparing for their greeting. Was there any point in feigning shock? Villanelle had made her presence obvious so Eve knew she was not expecting her to jump out of her skin, or scream like their first encounter. Naively she had defended herself with a toilet brush, this time she was ruthless and armed to kill if she needed to.

Eve pushed open the door and stood there, holding in a breath through tightly closed lips. Through the cluttered bookshelves, she could see the dimly lit silhouette of the assassin who ruined her life. She was still wearing the suit from the bus, although Eve could see honey blonde locks falling past her shoulders. She supposed the headbutt had dislodged the neat bun Villanelle always wore her hair in.

“Hi, Eve.”   
  
It was the same damn line. Was Villanelle here for a round two? Eve wondered whether their heads would take it. She closed the door behind her, not taking her eyes off Villanelle and threw her key onto her desk. It missed and bounced off of the floor.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

Villanelle stood up and walked around the bookshelf, hand leaning on it, only half of her body showing, as if she were concealing something behind her back. 

“Can you really call this an apartment? I’ve seen landfills cleaner than this.”

Eve said nothing but felt shame and anger. She knew this was Villanelle just sparring with her, trying to win the upper hand, probably feeling a bit bruised - definitely physically, but mentally also - over the fact that Eve had won the tussle on the bus with an unexpected and a little below the belt move. Even so, the state of her apartment reflected the state of her mind, her broken down marriage and the fact that in these past six months, her life without Villanelle was simply nothing. All of this was because of her, or more specifically, the lack of her. She crossed her arms as Villanelle held up what was behind her back; it was one of the leakage pads she was given from the hospital. Blood was a bitch to get out of sheets, Villanelle should know this.

“Is there something I don’t know about? Incontinence problems in your old age?” Villanelle’s smirk was villainous and Eve wanted nothing more than to sink a punch right through it to break it, but that would be losing. She tucked the knife into her pocket, visibly and Villanelle’s eyes caught the glimmer of it in the dim light. Eve dropped her bag on the spot and walked over to her, taking the pad from her hands. Villanelle dropped it and Eve folded it up, placing it on the table next to a wine bottle on its side and the glass with a small drop staining the bottom.

“It’s a wound leakage pad, actually. I thought you might have known, didn’t you have one too?” It was another low blow, they both knew what they were doing. Villanelle smiled and shook her head. She threw herself back down on the bed and from the way she was laying, on her side with her head in her arms, Eve could see her shirt was hanging looser, the tip of a black bra poking out. Eve turned around to ignore it. Villanelle was visibly provoking her.

“Nope! They stitched me up good and you avoided any internal organs so it was a pretty quick turnaround.” Villanelle said, cheerfully. It was almost a bragging sing-song. Eve’s anger got the better of her for a few seconds as she slammed her hand down onto the table, gripping it, hard. She could hear Villanelle move and she turned around lightning fast to find Villanelle sitting up now, legs apart, hands cupped and resting between them. She looked a little surprised, looking up at Eve.

“Aren’t you the lucky one? Unfortunately you blew out one of my ribs when you shot me and I had to have surgery to get it pinned.” Eve was trying hard to keep her voice low and in control, but it quivered with rage here and there. Villanelle looked almost sympathetic. She stood up and walked over to Eve. They were face-to-face now, exactly like in Rome and the sharp, painful memory made Eve’s breath catch in her throat.

“I’m sorry.” Villanelle whispered. Eve’s eyes deceived her because she thought she saw Villanelle’s eyes shine with unspilled tears. She picked up the glass from the table and went about washing it up, although the three day old wine stain was making it tricky to be a quick rinse and dry.

“What are you here for, anyway?” Eve asked. She played it off as nonchalantly as possible, but she knew. She damn well knew why Villanelle was here and she was not having any of it.

“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious, I’m here to talk-” Villanelle was rambling but Eve turned away from the sink, leaning on it to face her again.

“What is there to talk about?” She said. Villanelle looked offended.

“The bus. You kissed me on the bus.” Villanelle was glaring, her eyes boring into Eve’s skin. She felt a chill from the gaze and shuddered. She rubbed her arms, subtly as if to warm herself up but to also create a shield around herself.

“To get you off me. It was a distraction, and it worked.” Eve sneered out the last words, it was her turn to smirk now. Villanelle did not look impressed and began to walk forward, backing Eve into a corner, or more specifically, the wall of her kitchen. Eve had her hands behind her and felt the soft bump as she finally reached the wall. Villanelle definitely had a thing for pinning her against the wall in the kitchen, she was just waiting for a knife.

Instead, an arm reached out and placed itself above Eve’s head, emphasising the clear height difference between the both of them as Villanelle leaned in, centimetres away from Eve’s face. She could smell Villanelle’s woody perfume, it definitely was not  _ La Villanelle _ , which she had associated with her, but something different. Something powerful, probably expensive and inaccessible to Eve. She unconsciously inhaled the scent and it drew a whispered, breathy laugh from Villanelle.

“Was it really? Are you lying to yourself again, that there isn’t something more between us?” Villanelle’s mouth was by her ear now, the woody scent overpowering and intoxicating. Eve seemed to be fighting a small but powerful urge to bury her head into Villanelle’s shoulder and this urge proved to Eve that there was a lot more between them than just a kiss. She could conceal most of the ugly truth well: sleeping with Niko when she thought of Villanelle and using Hugo as a replacement while Villanelle moaned into her ear. She could still play up to the facade because the only evidence Villanelle had was the kiss.

“You’re deluded if you think that.”

“Me? Deluded?” Villanelle played with the word, drawing it out, sounding like an obnoxious child mocking their elder. Eve bit down on her lip to suppress herself, frowning, leaning up towards Villanelle, trying to square up to her in a way. Villanelle’s other hand dipped into Eve’s pocket and pulled out the small knife. She placed it flat against Eve’s cheek and slowly slipped it down over her neck and her chest and Eve screwed up her eyes, waiting for the inevitable tilt, the expectation of sharpness. The cold metal settled on her chest on the skin where she had not buttoned her shirt all the way. The breath she was holding came out shaky, almost a gasp.

“Open your eyes. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eve obeyed her. She watched as Villanelle quickly turned, throwing the knife into the kitchen sink with a loud clatter. The sudden movement made her flinch and Villanelle took her chin in her hand roughly. She could feel Villanelle’s fingers pressing against her cheekbones and knew she would be sore from the rough contact. She did not fight it.

“Was I deluded when I watched you get on your knees and submit to your husband when I told him what to do?”

Eve shook her head violently, trying to escape from Villanelle’s grasp, but Villanelle just pinned her head to the wall and clamped down harder.. That was the last time her and Niko had slept together and Eve could not deny that it was his possessiveness and power that seduced her. The arm against the throat, the anger, the jealousy, all of it drove her wild. The fact that a world-class assassin was so obsessed with her that she sought out her husband to brag about being stabbed by her contributed to it a lot more than Eve wanted to admit.

“What about in Rome? How did you let go? I want to know, tell me everything. Don’t lie, or I might have something sharp for you in my suit.” She released Eve’s face. Eve’s vision went sheepishly to the floor as she shifted her feet. Villanelle put her thumb underneath Eve’s chin and nudged her face up again. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. Just tell me. I won’t judge you.” Villanelle’s voice was soft, eyes hopeful, smile wide and waiting. Eve saw the flash of vulnerability and she knew she was going to destroy it, and the satisfaction of it would be better than any knife or any bullet that went through their skin. She wanted to smash that sweet, wanting smile and to hell with the consequences, even if she was left to bleed out on the cluttered floor. The thought of an extreme, passionate reaction from Villanelle made her unhinged. She laughed, bitterly and met Villanelle’s eye. Villanelle edged away a tiny amount, mouth open a little in confusion.

“I fucked my assistant. He was there and had been trying it on for a few days. I thought I’d indulge him.”

“What?” Villanelle spat the word out like venom. Her face was contorted with an animalistic rage. Eve decided to stoke the fire, but she was trembling now. What was Villanelle going to do to her? Her eyes looked Villanelle up and down, scanning her suit for any telltale bumps of knives or knuckle dusters or hand guns. Nothing. Villanelle would not be obvious like that.

“What? It was a nice bit of excitement after you made my husband leave me. Thank you. He said thank you for the threesome, too.” She was sneering until Villanelle moved closer, pressing her body against her. She brought the arm above her head down a little, knocking it against the wall. Eve flinched.

“It wasn’t meant to be a threesome. It was meant for you!” Villanelle was shouting. Eve could see the tears in her eyes and almost felt guilty. Almost. Villanelle turned away from her, dropping the arm that was pinning Eve to the wall and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, pinching the bridge of her nose. Eve stood there, watching her as she exhaled, wanting to reach out and touch her shoulder to reassure her and apologise. Yes, she did sleep with the others and she was sorry, she only said it to get a rise out of her but that she was the only one in her thoughts and she made her do it and-

Eve stopped. She pressed her hand, a balled up fist to her mouth. She second guessed everything she did because of Villanelle and her emotions were muddled because of Villanelle and if she did not know any different by the way her bones creaked and her serums were all anti-aging, she would confuse herself for a lovesick teenager. Niko had gone, MI6 had abandoned her, she was running an unofficial investigation into Villanelle out of a shabby newsroom for a webzine written by and read mainly by introverted virgins, she had nothing to lose, so why could she not commit to an option? She had tried to run but one little hint of Villanelle, reopened everything. She was still clinging onto a chase that Villanelle was trying to end six months ago, but it seemed she could not let go either.

Eve’s mind was silenced when Villanelle spun back around to face her, expression deadpan, as if that small display of emotion had never happened.

“You have a habit of fucking other men when you think of me.” Villanelle spoke. Eve swallowed apprehensively. Villanelle stepped forward, and her hands went to the lapels of her jacket. Eve closed her eyes again, waiting for the weapon. She heard something fall to the floor and watched as Villanelle unbuttoned her waistcoat, dropping it onto her jacket beneath her feet.

“I want that.” Villanelle said.

The three words hung in the air between them and she noticed Villanelle’s chest rising and falling rapidly. She was doing the same, mirroring the actions. It seemed Villanelle was giving her an option to run, but her feet stood right there, on that same spot as the two of them just stared at each other.

_ So do I. _ Eve finally admitted to herself. She would never voice it, though.

“I thought you were dead.” Her voice trembled on the last word.

“So did I.”

“I thought I was over you.”

“As did I.”

There was a pause.

“Do you want this?” Villanelle asked. Before Eve could consider it, her head had nodded unconsciously. Her breathing was elevated, she could feel her heart thundering in her chest. She could feel Villanelle’s body against her now and leaned into it. Villanelle raised an eyebrow.

“Yes…” Eve managed to get out, barely audible. Villanelle’s arm came to Eve’s throat, pushing her against the wall again.

“Then beg for it.”

“What?”

“Beg for it. Like you did with your husband. Get on your knees and beg.”

Eve hesitated. She could shove her off right now, demand her to get out of her apartment and go to bed, and it could be like none of this ever happened. She could go back to the restaurant in New Malden, change her locks and go back to picking up the pieces of her lonely life. In front of her was the person who destroyed her life, but she was also the person who made her life. Back in that cafe, six months ago, she told Eve that she was the only thing that made her interesting. Villanelle was also the only thing that interested her, fully. So she found herself sliding down the wall onto her knees, resting a hand on Villanelle’s shoulder as she dragged her fingers down Eve’s arm. Her lips were parted, her breathing unsteady and the pair kept their eyes fixed on each other. 

As much as Villanelle liked to play up to confidence, her demeanour was slipping. Her eyes were blown wide and she was panting just as much as Eve was, her chest falling and rising quickly. Despite the clear disruption of her calm, she was completely focused, following Eve with her eyes as she fell down to the ground on her knees, running her hand up Eve’s arm. She kept Eve on the ground for a while and Eve found herself overwhelmed by the intensity, darting her eyes away to look at the bed. It must have been seductive to Villanelle.

“Get on the bed.”

Eve walked over to the bed slowly. She pushed off her wound dressing box and the random books off her bed and neatened the covers to give her something to do, to prolong the inevitable before she climbed on the bed and lay on her back, flat. Villanelle was watching her silently from where she stood.

“Now what?” Eve asked, impatient.

“Don’t talk.” Villanelle joined Eve on the bed, climbing over her, pressing a finger to her lips.

“What did you do with your assistant?” Villanelle asked, her voice low . Eve scoffed.

“What do you mean what did I do? I told you.” She snapped. Villanelle’s hands dug into Eve’s wrists.

“No. Tell me how. Exactly. How did you fuck him while you listened to my voice?”

“Well, I got on the bed, pulled him down, took his clothes off, told him not to talk and...rode him.” It sounded grotesque and crude to say, not the elegant and sexiness she expected of the first time she had Villanelle. She turned her head away, part embarrassed at how she merely used him as a body for her pleasure, part to prompt Villanelle to get on with it. When Villanelle lifted her up using her wrists, she followed, confused, until Villanelle twisted herself and slammed down on the bed, holding Eve up by her waist, resting her on her legs. Eve frowned at her and touched the hands at her waist.

“Fine.” Villanelle said.

“What?”

“It’s not ideal, but it’ll do. I would have preferred to have been able to talk.”

“What are you playing at?” Eve spat through gritted teeth. She moved to get off. Villanelle gripped Eve’s waist.

“I told you, I want that. I want you to do for me what you did to him while you thought of me.”

Eve leaned forward, lips parted, hands on Villanelle’s shoulders to brace herself and keep her steady.

“Did you kiss him, then?” Villanelle asked. She did not sound convinced, and it was true. She had not kissed him, it was merely pants off and Eve on him, overcome with pure pleasure at the breathy moans and encouraging pants in her ear. She had kept her eyes shut through the whole experience, as if she was closing her eyes to Villanelle’s touch. Obviously she knew the real thing could not compare to her fallacy at the time, Hugo was merely a dick pistoning in and out of her, but for then, it did the job and allowed Eve to hold on to it just being a random hookup. Less of a fallout if her husband found out.

“Don’t talk.” Eve demanded. She wanted that kiss, no matter what. She lowered her lips onto Villanelle’s mouth and kissed her, hard. It was sloppy, messy, there were absolutely no chaste pretences here. She tried to close her eyes to imagine the moaning in her ear that she’d had that night, six months ago. She had pinned Hugo to the bed with both of her hands, refusing him the chance of touch, but Eve wanted nothing more than to let Villanelle’s hands roam over her body, and for hers to thread into the hair splayed out on her pillow. She pushed her tongue into Villanelle’s mouth, eyes closed, exploring, desperate to elicit that first moan from her to start her off. 

Eve decided to break Villanelle’s rules further, a small act of rebellion, but moved one hand from her shoulder into Villanelle’s hair, pulling her head up closer to Eve’s, angling it and rejoining their lips together in open-mouthed kisses. Villanelle gasped into Eve’s mouth and that was enough to spur her on, rocking her hips against Villanelle, which only brought about more moaning to Eve’s satisfaction. She pushed her back down on the bed with a hard shove and pulled off her top, throwing it to the floor. Eve thought about the bra, obviously Hugo did not need ridding of a bra and she wondered exactly how true to the story Villanelle wanted it. She left the bra for now, wildly desperate for her and unbuttoned her trousers, pulling them down in one swift movement, only getting off her to help Villanelle slip the trousers off her legs. They joined the white vest on the floor and Eve noticed that in them were a pair of black, lacy underwear. Apart from her bra, Villanelle was naked, laying underneath her.

Obviously, there needed to be some changes to the plan. Hugo and Villanelle were different, and unless Villanelle had packed something in her bag, Eve did not keep strap-ons or anything of the sort in her apartment. As she pulled off her own trousers and threw them down next to Villanelle’s, stepping back and taking the opportunity to admire her body. Her figure was athletic, but she was definitely not  _ ale decha _ , as she had been described to her the first time she had blown into Eve’s world. Eve wanted nothing more than to unclip that bra and kiss her more, but she’d had her fun disobeying Villanelle - anything more would get her into too much trouble. Tonight, she was nothing more than a mindless ride. Something about denying Villanelle any pleasure just made Eve ache more for her touch. In a way, she was in control, something she had yearned for since they had started their sordid cat-and-mouse chase. The circumstances were dizzying.

“Can I talk?” Villanelle asked.

“What?” Eve snapped. She was enjoying her power trip.

“What are you trying to work out?”

“Honestly, what character you’re meant to be playing, If you’re Hugo, then it’s not going to work, because I need Villanelle in my ear.”

“Why? Can’t you remember our night together?” Villanelle was teasing. They both knew Eve remembered, they both knew that on lonely nights in this apartment, Eve would think about that shared moment and her hands would wander past her waistband.

“No. I need a reminder.” Eve lied. Villanelle sat up, Eve still on her lap, and put her arm around Eve’s waist. It looked like an innocent embrace, apart from the fact the other hand had found its way to the front of Eve’s underwear and was tracing shapes around the sensitive area. Eve gripped Villanelle’s shoulder and moaned into her ear. She could hear Villanelle laughing.

“Lift up. On your knees again.” Villanelle requested. Eve did so and Villanelle’s hands slipped Eve’s underwear off, down to her calves. Eve kicked it off the rest of the way. Villanelle pulled Eve onto her lap. Eve shuddered at the contact, clinging onto Villanelle, closing her eyes again. She felt fingers move between them and graze her entrance lightly. Villanelle let out a breathy moan in her ear and Eve grinded her hips into Villanelle’s hand.

_ Oh. _ Eve had worked out how Villanelle was going to do this. Her hand was the substitute and Villanelle was going to provide the audio straight into her ear. Realistically she did not need to take off Villanelle’s trousers, but Eve risked running her hand over her thigh just to feel the soft skin. Villanelle took Eve’s hand and moved it back to where it was before, around the shoulders.

“No, Eve. You know what we’re doing.” She gasped against Eve’s ear again as she pressed one finger into her. Eve bucked her hips and threw her head back, biting her lip and when she looked forward, she saw that Villanelle had lost a bit of her cool and was watching her with wide eyes. She grinned at her and Villanelle scowled, adding in another finger and curling them inside her.

“Oh, Villanelle!” Eve cried out, clutching one hand in her hair. She could not touch Villanelle because she did not touch Hugo. She should have her eyes shut, listening to moaning in her ear, but just knowing that it was Villanelle’s fingers inside of her instead of Hugo’s dick was enough for overwhelming, maddening bliss.

“Did you say my name to him, Eve?” Villanelle stopped moving her fingers. Eve clasped a hand to her mouth and shook her head. She wanted to beg for Villanelle to continue but this was a very specific fantasy for Villanelle, and she knew that shutting up and putting up would get her what she wanted.

“Then don’t do it.” Villanelle commanded. Eve dropped her hand and put them around Villanelle’s shoulders.

“You’re breaking the rules too.”

“Am I?” She sounded amused.

“Yeah. I said don’t talk.” Eve dug her nails into Villanelle’s back and she arched into Eve, groaning. She mimicked a zipping motion across her lips with her free hand and poked her fingers up into Eve again, encouraging her by whispering close to her ear. 

They quickly found a rhythm. Villanelle would match Eve’s grinding hips with her own hand movements and would occasionally curl her fingers or stroke a spot inside of her to bring out an extra moan or an expletive. Eve had her eyes shut, one hand gripping onto Villanelle, the other threaded in her hair, pulling. Gasps and moans fell out of her lips easily with Villanelle’s name on her tongue too, although when that threatened to spill out, Eve bit down on her lip hard. She would definitely have a bump there in the morning, but the discomfort added to the intoxicating pressure building between her legs. Obviously, she wished she could have more, she wished she could have Villanelle, but this was her consequence for bringing someone else into their connection.

It didn’t make it any less mesmerising, however.

“Oh Eve, I wonder what you’ll look like when you’ll come for me.” Villanelle said, and the two of them remembered that line perfectly. She had picked up Hugo and quickened her pace, so she dropped her hair out of her hand and clung onto Villanelle, nails in her back carving her presence into her. Her hips were swaying rapidly, moans were cut off by gasps and other whimpers. She bit down on Villanelle’s shoulder to suppress the urge to cry out her name - something she definitely did not do with Hugo - but Villanelle, eyes also closed seemed to let that one slide for now.

The aching burn of arousal was turning into repeated jolts of pleasure as Eve continued to ride Villanelle’s fingers. Villanelle herself had stopped the pantomime of moans and had gone quiet apart from the heavy breathing Eve could feel against her own chest. Part of her felt guilty that she was the only one that felt like this, that Villanelle was denying her own pleasure, but at the same time, this was her request, her doing. 

Her thoughts were cut out by the overwhelming build between her legs and she swore again, low, whispered into Villanelle’s ear. Villanelle curled her fingers forward, stroking her tenderly and it was enough to push Eve over the edge, making her forget that she was meant to be pretending, fulfilling a fantasy and she lost herself in Villanelle’s company and herself, repeating her name over and over like a chant.

  
“Oh, Villanelle, fuck, Villanel-” It was cut off as she succumbed to her climax, gasping out breaths against Villanelle’s shoulder. She felt a hand in her hair, yanking her into a passionate kiss and if she was not mid-orgasm with Villanelle’s teeth pushing against her lips she would laugh at the fact that Villanelle had lost her own self control. Villanelle worked Eve through and then slipped her fingers out, pulling her into an embrace and falling back on the bed with Eve in her arms. The pair of them were panting and remained there for a few minutes to catch their breath.

Eve could feel the wetness on her thighs and was not entirely convinced that all of it was her own. She wriggled out of Villanelle’s arms and began to slide down the bed, running her fingers down Villanelle’s thighs. In a split second, her back was on the bed with a thud, Villanelle next to her, holding her down.

“What?” Eve asked, exasperated. She was confused, sure that Villanelle would also be seeking release.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I had no one there when it was me. I couldn’t hear or see anyone. So you are going to shut up and I am going to finish it.”

Eve opened her mouth to protest, but she felt fingers release her wrist, the same fingers dipping between Villanelle’s thighs. Eve’s eyes widened and she quickly looked up at Villanelle’s face, feeling invasive, but unable to rip her eyes away from her partner touching herself. In some ways, looking at her face was worse. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted into the pillow and her mouth open, indulging in the luxury of being able to say her name.

“Eve, I wish you were here, oh…”

  
  
She had to give Villanelle her credit, apart from a little slip here and there, she kept character, which was more than could be said from Eve who would have ripped her fingers from her and moved her head down there instead. Still, she was very much showing off the fact that she theoretically didn’t have an audience she was trying to hide the fantasy from and was definitely enjoying being able to say Eve’s name, describing everything that she wanted from Eve lewdly.

The noise of wet fingers moving quickly made Eve look down again and she could see Villanelle working her clit with gentle rubs and varying pressure. Sometimes she would hit a spot she enjoyed and Eve wished she knew exactly what spot was driving her so crazy. Her fingers were twitching, she had to ball her hands up into fists by her side just to resist the urge to touch her. Would there be any repercussions if she did touch her? Did she want to know?

“Eve, Eve, Eve…”

Now she was just bragging. Eve never wanted her to stop saying her name.

Villanelle’s free hand shot out suddenly, gripping onto Eve’s shirt. She turned to face Eve, eyes open now, mouth hanging open, contorted with the shape of Eve’s names and the gasps that followed.

“Villanelle…” Eve said, softly. It was more admiration than arousal, although there was definitely something darker behind Eve’s awe. 

Villanelle threw her face into Eve’s chest as she came and Eve pulled her into an embrace, letting Villanelle press herself against Eve’s legs, grinding against her through her orgasm. They lay there in each other’s arms until the hot air made the sweat on their skin uncomfortable, and Eve reached over to grab a packet of baby wipes off the table and threw them at Villanelle. While they cleaned themselves up, they talked.

“Do you have some extra clothes?” Villanelle asked. Eve grinned at her.

“Who said you’re staying? Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Ah, I assumed you wanted a round two tomorrow. Maybe not, then.” Villanelle grabbed onto the edge of the bed and made to move, pulling her trousers towards her using her feet. Eve snatched her arm away from the bed and held her hand.

“I do. Yes. I want you to stay. But not this. I loved it but I want to enjoy you for you.” It sounded cheesy and a little too romantic, but Villanelle’s gentle smile was radiant. They both lay back down and Villanelle reached up to press a kiss to the blossoming bruise on Eve’s forehead.

“I do too.”

Sleep took them quickly, wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled together. Maybe Eve was not as done with Villanelle as she first thought.


End file.
